


there's a fire in your eyes, it's true...

by heartbreakordeath



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Misunderstandings, also ben is mentioned but he will not make an appearance, anyways happy birthday amyyyy, ed is in this but i feel weird tagging him so no, idk how to tag it's 3am what else is newww
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath
Summary: “So you kidnapped a drunk guy.”“For the last time, I didn’tkidnaphim!”“Then why the fuck is there a drunk guy in your car, Dan?”"I DON’T KNOW.”“Then what the f- oh,nowlook what you’ve done. He’s waking up.”The man blinks up at the two of them, eyes wide and pupils blown.“Please don’t murder me.”
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	there's a fire in your eyes, it's true...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> VERY roughly inspired by 'please don't murder me (part 2) by love fame tragedy
> 
> i know i say this every time but this is without a doubt one of the more random things i've ever written,,, but it was fun!! i would finish it now but it's, uh, 2:50am and i must sleep

“So you kidnapped a drunk guy.”

“For the last time, I didn’t _kidnap_ him!”

“Then why the fuck is there a drunk guy in your car, Dan?”

“I DON’T KNOW.”

“Then what the f- oh, _now_ look what you’ve done. He’s waking up.”

The man blinks up at the two of them, eyes wide and pupils blown. 

“Please don’t murder me.”

* * *

  
  


**_A few hours earlier_ **

Dan’s not sure what kind of coffee place stays open until 10pm, but he’s forever grateful for the single one in town that does. 

(Even if the cashier’s finally stopped giving him strange looks and is now starting to look more concerned for him than anything.)

It must be the location, he thinks, as he drops the change into the handmade tip jar on the counter and heads for his normal chair by the window. The baristas, fortunately, are nice enough to leave him be until a little after 10:15 most nights, or at least until they’ve closed the rest of the shop. He settles into his usual position- feet up on the chair, legs folded beneath him in a way that grows uncomfortable after a while, but at least allows the workers to sweep and mop the floor around him without any awkwardness ensuing.

The view isn’t much, by coffee shop standards, but to Dan there’s no better way to spend the evening. It’s only around 9 now, and he’s content to sit in the quiet of the near-empty cafe, silently judging the indie playlist that plays softly from the hidden speakers and staring helplessly at his own lyrics on his laptop screen.

Or- as he ends up doing most nights- he resolves himself to staring out the window that takes up the entirety of the wall next to him. It’s mostly students that rush by at this hour, getting out of night classes or heading out for a big night downtown. On the rare occasions he finds himself here during daylight hours, the clock tower of his university is visible in the distance when he leans far enough against the glass.

But there’s a reason he comes here instead of one of the multiple cafes on campus. Well, two reasons. It comes both in the form of the privacy it gives him (despite the huge fucking window he’s somehow decided he _must_ sit in front of), and- though he hasn’t enlightened Ralph on this fact quite yet- in the form of the baristas that always seem to be scheduled for closing the store when he comes by for a coffee.

People-watching is an easy enough hobby for someone sitting a sheet of glass away from the bustling downtown of Leeds to develop. But it turns out that the list of people Dan would rather watch is...actually much more limited.

Ed’s the one on floor duty tonight, and Dan looks up at the sound as the young man pushes the mop bucket out from the back room.

“Drew the short straw tonight, eh?” The barista barely glances up, only stopping to push his glasses further up his nose and huff a tired sigh.

“Are we surprised? He’s got another gig tonight, said he just _had_ to leave early to get there in time.”

Dan glances at the clock. “It’s not even ten yet. When’s he on?”

“ _Ten thirty_. Arsehole.”

_Where’s he playing? Is he any good? I bet he is._ He clears his throat and watches Ed turn to get the broom. “Couldn’t get Ben to cover?” He asks instead.

“Pssh. Nah. Angie had him open again this morning- won’t be hearing from him 'til tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Oh.” Dan dreads the silence that follows. Ed doesn’t seem to mind, as he pulls chairs out of the way to sweep the trash from beneath them. Dan winces at the screeching of chair legs against tile, unable to tune it out and listen to the music playing above him. He relaxes visibly when Ed pauses to swap out the broom for the mop.

“What song is this?” Dan asks suddenly, as his ears pick up on a song he doesn’t recognize. Ed, Charlie, and Ben- all musically-inclined themselves- have taken it upon themselves to update the cafe playlist every week or so, which has led to some _interesting_ comments from Angie, their manager ( _he’s_ **_screaming_ ** _, Charlie, why is he so angry- Ben, for the last time, I can’t understand a_ **_word_ ** _these guys are saying- Ed, you do know this is a coffee shop, not an emo house party, right?_ ).

Ed scoffs and pushes the mop head further under a table. “You’ll never guess.”

“Some random indie guy you found on a deep-dive through Soundcloud last night?” That, at least, earns him a laugh, but still not an answer. “C’mon, you know I have no idea. It’s _good_ , though, which is rare for you...” Ed looks seconds away from dumping the contents of the mop bucket over his head. “At least give me something to Google.”

“It’s Charlie’s new one, idiot. The one he’s debuting for _real_ tonight? Move your foot.” Dan looks down and moves his leg back up onto the seat, still not comprehending the statement fully.

“...that’s... _Charlie_ singing.”

“Unfortunately, yes. If I have to hear _one more fucking version_ of it...”

“What’s it called?” Dan tilts his head in the direction of the speaker as if it’ll make the music easier to hear. 

“It’s called,” Ed grabs the bucket and heads back behind the counter, “‘ _It’s time for Dan to leave because Ed was supposed to meet Charlie for drinks ten minutes ago._ ’”

“Didn’t know it was a Fall Out Boy song,” Dan mumbles to his retreating back, shutting his laptop with a _click_ and stuffing it in his backpack. He doesn’t wait for Ed to come back before he’s heaving himself out of the chair and pushing the front door open with a sigh. He’s nearly late for work by now, anyways.

It’s not his favorite part of the night, but he’s gotta pay the bills somehow. Dan finds his car, parked on a side street tucked just around the corner from the coffee shop, and unlocks it, sticking his phone on the dash as he climbs in.

All hopes of a quiet night go out the window when there’s a request beeping incessantly from his phone screen mere seconds after he logs in. He sighs and starts the car, hoping his passengers will be mostly sober for at _least_ the first hour or so.

It’s not the most glamorous job for an aspiring musician (but then, he thinks, neither is being a barista), but being a music major is already depressing enough as it is. Why _not_ waste a few nights a week driving strangers around instead of sitting and staring at a piano?

On the bright side, the amount of requests that fill up his screen make the hours pass in a blur, and suddenly it’s nearing 1am and the rush of people is slowly tapering off. He’s only got a few stories for Ralph tonight- an obnoxious person who didn’t get off of their _extremely_ important phone call the entire journey, a _very_ drunk but surprisingly wholesome man in his thirties who refused to stop rambling about his husband, a group of young women who requested Dan play the newest Wombats album as soon as they piled into the car (not that he was complaining- just pleasantly surprised); all in all, nothing too out of the ordinary.

When his phone dings again, this time to signal his freedom, Dan sighs and checks for any last-minute requests before he logs out of his account. He’s not _exactly_ sure where he is- from the looks of it, a quite nice section of town that seems vaguely familiar. _Everything_ seems _vaguely_ familiar now, though, he supposes, after all the driving he’s done in the past month or so.

He’s parked on the side of a street that in any other town would be dead by this time of night. Drunk students roam the streets like zombies, tripping over themselves as they find their way to taxis and bus stops and subway stations in the darkness. There’s a few bars along this section of road, maybe a couple clubs here and there- certainly enough to satisfy the university population.

Briefly, Dan debates turning the car off, going into one of the bars. He could just walk in, find a spot in the corner, get a drink. He could do that.

_No. I couldn’t_. His pulse spikes at the mere idea of it. He breathes past the sudden lump in his throat- he needs to turn the air conditioning on again. Or drive. Yeah, driving sounds good. He never did get to the end of that Wombats album…

He reaches for his phone again, pressing play at the exact moment the back door opens and a body tumbles into the car.

Dan turns, startled. The stranger tugs the door shut clumsily and slumps back onto the seat. Squinting, he catches a glimpse of scruffy facial hair and dark brown curls before the car lights fade to black and he’s left staring at a random drunk guy. In his car. In the middle of the night.

_Great_.

“I-” Dan can’t breathe properly all of a sudden. “I’m not-”

“Good song,” the stranger- a man, probably a student like Dan- says. “Not used to taxi drivers having any taste.” He laughs, a short burst that makes Dan blink harder against the darkness. He knows that laugh.

“I’m...not a taxi,” he manages. There’s silence from the backseat.

“ _Yeah_ , y’are,” the man replies with another laugh, quieter this time. “Sticker on the window and everythin.’ Can you take me home?”

“ _I’m_ going home.” Dan shakes his head. “I can’t take you anywhere. Sorry, mate.”

This is where he expects the anger- it’s not the first time he’s had surly drunks banging on his window demanding a ride, just the first time he’s forgotten to lock the doors- but somehow, the silence he receives is more concerning.

“Hey. _Hey_.” Nothing. He squints again, struggling to see any movement from the backseat. “Hey, you- you gotta get out. This is my car, I’m not a taxi. Please?”

“Mhmm,” the man hums, making no attempt to get out of the car. Dan sighs and reaches up to flick on the light- so much for being nice.

He flinches against the sudden brightness, blinking as his eyes adjust and focus on the poor guy in the back, who simply throws an arm over his eyes and angles his body away from Dan. Dan squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

“Please. I need to get home. There’s plenty of other cabs around.” _There_ . _Polite but direct. Ralph would approve._

The stranger starts snoring in response, and Dan’s head falls back against the headrest in defeat. _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> hap birf amy!! hope u like so far <333


End file.
